*All unedited, subject to change*
I remember thinking if my heart broke that intensely, it should at least make a sound. That if the rest of the world could hear my hurt instead of being forced to suffer in silence, then maybe it would be easier to bear.
As Molly handed out her gifts, my mom dug under the tree for the presents we had for her and her dad, Mark. When Molly got to me, she hesitated with the wrapped present. The battle she had in her head played out on her face.
I watched patiently as she weighed the option of giving me the gift or not. Eventually manners won and she handed me the present without making eye contact. Whatever it was must hold great meaning or embarrassment for her. I couldn’t wait to rip the red paper to shreds and find out.
“Three, two, one…Happy New Year!” Everyone shouted in excitement.
I was wasted.
I looked around at the mass of bodies surrounding me and I didn’t recognize anyone. Where am I? Who am I with? How did I get here?
“Happy New Year, Jace.” A blonde plastered her body against mine in a hug. A very suggestive hug that said, you can take me home and celebrate with me again and again.
Not interested, sweetheart.
“Happy New Year,” I mumbled around numb lips. I patted her on the back and unwrapped her body from mine.
I turned and instantly froze, after I stumbled forward. My heart pounded, my breath accelerated and the flutters in my chest and stomach made me feel like a lovesick puppy.
Molly. Molly was here.
Thank you, Jesus, I sent my thoughts upward and then cursed as my eyes focused.
She wasn’t alone.
She brought light into my darkest corners and I wasn’t sure how I would find my way again without her glow.
How does one go about choosing between two pieces of their heart? Either choice felt wrong and empty and would leave me as half the person I was.
“Leave me alone! I have a gun,” I yelled behind me. “I’m not afraid to use it.” My voice shook, giving away the lie.
The dark figure caught up to me, grabbing me by the arm. I screamed into the night and pounded my tiny fists against his hard chest. My only hope was for curious neighbors to peek out of their windows and doors to offer help, but before anyone could hear me, he covered my mouth with his hand.
“Stop,” he warned over my muffled hysterics.
“I don’t have money or jewelry. Please don’t hurt me. Please let me go.” I began to sob into the perpetrators hand as I continued to struggle against him to no avail.